Burn
by darthsydious
Summary: Takes place after The Six Thatchers, don't read if you haven't watched the episode. Molly finds out about John's secret and confronts him. Fierce Godmother Molly.
1. Burn

"Hey, how are you?" There was a sharp intake, and John glanced up, seeing Molly shut her eyes quickly, wincing. "Sorry, that was stupid."

"Habit," he shrugged in response. "Here, Rosie's been missing her Auntie Molly," he got to his feet, reaching for the baby in her playpen as Molly quickly set her purse down and shrugged out of her coat.

"Tea?" Molly asked, taking Rosie from him and heading towards the kitchen, dancing from foot to foot as Rosie babbled quietly.

"Yeah uh, yeah, cupboard. It's just-" he tried to maneuver around her.

"No I'll get it, let me fuss," Molly waved him off. "Go and finish your crossword."

"Ahh that was more…Mary's thing," he looked at the open paper, the puzzle half finished. He'd often sat opposite her, watching as she chewed on the end of a pencil, mug of tea at her elbow, warm sun shining through her blonde hair. She always finished it in an hour, and then tackled the Sudoku on the following page.

Molly was silent, allowing him to be lost in the moment. "Right," she murmured gently. "I'll just leave it there," He looked up, suddenly remembering she was there. "In case you feel like finishing it." Her smile was soft, eyes sad.

Filling the electric kettle, she switched it on while John went about clearing the laundry basket full of unfolded linens from the kitchen.

"No chance to clean up then?" she asked.

"No uh…not…really. Mary and I always did it together…and with everything going on haven't…em…haven't had a chance."

"Well never mind, I'll pitch in," Molly smiled again.

John blinked, another face coming in to view, of a redheaded woman. A wave of guilt washed over him and he turned suddenly. "Right uh, biscuits with tea all right? Haven't got much in, aside from baby food. I can…uh order in if you like."

"Haven't been to the shops either?" Molly asked.

"No uh, Mary and I-"

"Did it together, yeah," Molly finished. "Don't worry. Just make a list, I can have some delivered for you."

"Yeah thanks." He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sofa. He looked a sight. Hadn't had a proper shave and shower in too long. "Listen, Molly, mind if I just duck into the shower for a bit? I haven't…with Rosie and I'm here by myself-"

"You wouldn't be, if you'd answer your phone," Molly chastised. "It's not just me you can call, you know."

He gave her a look, and she nodded quickly. Now was not the time to try and get him to talk to Sherlock.

"Never mind. Not at all, go on," Molly waved him off. "I'll see what's in the larder and order your groceries, take your time."

"Ta," John grabbed a clean towel and cloth from the pile of laundry and hurried to the bathroom.

The bathroom door shut noisily, making Rosie jump.

"Oh shush shush, there, it's nothing lovey," Molly cooed.

On the table, John's phone buzzed.

"Oh John, you've got a message," Molly called.

The bathroom door opened. "If it's from Sherlock tell him to sod off."

"I won't, but I'll tell him your busy at the moment," Molly replied tightly. She understood John's pain, but she didn't see why he should blame Sherlock for Mary's choice. That wasn't for her to say, at least not yet it wasn't. Everyone was hurting, everyone needed their space. For now though, she could at least do the decent thing and reply to Sherlock's text.

Except it wasn't from Sherlock.

 _Hey. Miss you. It's been a while since we've chatted. Xx E_

"'E'"?" Molly wondered aloud. "Who on earth-" before she could finish that sentence, his phone buzzed again, another message!

 _Was thinking this time maybe we could meet up. In person? Sort of like a date. Okay a date. Let me know! Xx E_

Had John met someone? Alarmed, Molly scrolled through the messages, and felt her heart skip a beat. Her face burned with shame and disbelief. _'This can't be happening, this isn't happening.'_ She thought. There seemed to be no end of the trail of messages. She scrolled and scrolled through. Nothing obscene, but there was a congenial air about the messages, flirty, playful, _comfortable._ Most messages were to do with what they did during the day, the sort of talk couples exchange. Most wouldn't call that cheating.

Molly would.

A happily married man had no reason to flirt with a strange woman. A married man had no right to go sniffing around where he did not need to. What was John Watson doing texting a strange woman at all hours of the day and night for the past three months?

Clearly he hadn't in the past week and a half.

"Well, he was decent enough to put her aside for now," she muttered.

The phone buzzed again

 _Everything okay? Phone says you've read the messages. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? ;) xx E_

Molly didn't know what possessed her, but something in her ignited and she found herself very calmly setting Rosie down in her playpen and turning the phone so the keyboard popped up.

 _Sorry. John's been busy these past few days. You see his wife of a year and a half and the mother of his child was just shot and he's in mourning. Perhaps you'd be good enough to piss the hell off and leave him to his friends and stop ruining his life._

The phone buzzed in record time, much to Molly's annoyance at this stranger's gall.

 _Listen, he texted me. I didn't put a gun to his head. He tried to end it a couple times, but I guess he knows a good thing when he sees it. E_

Molly chewed the inside of her cheek.

 _Oh believe me, I am not excusing him. He's got quite a lot to answer for just as soon as I end this little chat, but I want to be very clear: if you go looking for him again, if you message, tweet, Instagram, facebook or whatever the Hell else there is in ways of contacting him, I will find out, and I will see to it that not even the crows will find you, and I will make it look like a bloody accident. Wink. Smiley Face. - End Chat_

The bathroom door opened and John emerged, showered and shaved, looking somewhat better.

"Thanks, Molly, uh, feel a bit better for that-"

"What's this?" she interrupted, holding up his phone.

John frowned. "What?"

"Don't play dumb, what. Is. This. Who is she?"

Realization dawned, and he shifted, uncomfortable. Cursing, he scrubbed the back of his neck. "It was nothing just…it was just a flirtation."

"An affair," Molly corrected.

He looked up, alarmed. "No!"

"Were you emotionally involved?"

"What? No of course not she just…she was flirting with me on the bus, she doesn't normally do that-"

"Oh she said that, did she?" Molly scoffed.

"I don't have to answer to you-"

"No, you should answer to Mary, but she's not here, is she?" Molly held the phone away as he made to grab it.

He took a moment to collect himself, Molly's words stung him. Flexing his hands on the back of a chair, he bowed his head. "It was just a thing, we only ever messaged each other, we never met…at least not on purpose."

"Oh so you've been about, have you?"

"Just for a walk, _a walk_ , Molly!"

"Emotional affairs are just as harmful as sexual ones!" Molly burst out.

"It was just a little innocent flirting-"

Molly held up a hand to silence him, her expression was all wrath, and John suddenly found himself thinking that Hell hath no fury like a woman. Period.

"There is no such thing as _innocent_ flirting," Molly bit out, clearly struggling to keep her voice down. "Shall I tell you the definition of flirting, John Watson?"

"It's to attract someone without serious intention, yeah, I know,"

"So what do you think this woman was thinking? What do you think that did, when you responded to her, John? Don't you think that was encouragement?" Molly asked, incredulous. "What on earth did you think would happen? You'd just leave it at talking? Bull, even you aren't so stupid as that! Talking leads to attachment, attachment leads to meeting up, meeting up, well, a nice cup of coffee, a walk, before you know it, you're splitting your time between your home and her's." she glared at him. "Did Mary know?"

"No of course not!" John snapped. "God, do you think I would ever let her-"

"Oh!" Molly interrupted her. "So Mary didn't know? You seem to think you had to hide this from her? Why should you hide it from Mary, if there was nothing serious going on?"

"I wasn't- it…" John trailed off, unable to even complete the argument. "She…hid things from me-"

"I see," Molly nodded. "So to get her back, you decided to chat someone up-"

"No it wasn't like that!" John blustered.

"Then tell me, John, what was it?" Molly folded her arms across her middle. "Tell me how you ended up forming an emotional attachment to a woman you are not married to, and you felt you had to hide it from your wife."

John, hands on his hips, stared at her, willing himself to think. He licked his lips, feeling his face burn with shame, with anger. Anger at himself, at Molly for finding out. "You don't know what it was like, between Mary and I the last few months it- things were different-"

"Oh yes, they were," Molly agreed. "It's hard to devote your time to two women, it's natural to pull away from one and start thinking of the other one more often."

"No!" John snapped. "Before that it was different, there were things you don't know-"

"I know it, John!" Molly scoffed, angry, incredulous. "Of course I know! I know about Mary's past, that she used to work for the CIA, that she shot Sherlock," she stepped up to him, and John stared right back. "I also know that you told her you forgave her. Tell me, if you did forgive her, why did you feel the need to 'get back at her'?"

"I wasn't trying to," John replied. Hurt welled up inside of him. He was mad at Molly for her giving him such a dressing down. Who was she to tell him, after all the secrets she kept from him? Why shouldn't he have something of his own to- there he stopped himself. For all he felt he might have been entitled to, an affair was never something he thought himself capable of. Silent, he bowed his head, then quickly looked at Rosie who was playing, babbling at the soft photograph album she loved to play with.

"Mama!' she slapped the album, laughing, waving the book.

"You might not have been trying to hurt Mary," Molly spoke at last. "Perhaps you were just trying to find a release from the life you didn't realize was not so thrilling after all: married with a child…all that…" she fell quiet, reflective. "But John, John listen to me," He looked up, and was surprised to see Molly had tears in her eyes. "Affairs aren't always about sex. Affairs start small, a text, a phone call, a cup of coffee. It's when they reach your heart," she prodded him in the chest. "When you start forming attachments, and the people you promised to love first, they get neglected."

"I never would have-"

"You don't know that," Molly shook her head, tears falling freely. "John Watson, you do not know how things would have gone. But even when you tried to stop it, you still went along, willingly. Affairs never affect just one person," she tossed his phone onto the chair, the screen lit up with a message. "I hope you prove me wrong. I hope you do right by Mary." Molly gathered up her coat and purse. She went to the playpen, picking up Rosie for a brief cuddle and kiss before setting her back down again. Straightening, Molly paused when she came to John. "I hope you end this now, because if you don't, you'll never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again," she took a shuddering breath, feeling tears rolling down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes, hurt replaced with anger. "And I won't ever look at you either."

With that she fled, slamming the door behind her. John watched her through the window as she ran to a cab idling by the curb. Sherlock was climbing out. John felt his heart lurch as he watched Sherlock grasp Molly's arm, alarmed that she was crying. He looked at the house, then back at Molly. She was motioning for him to get in the cab. John felt sick to his stomach. Sherlock looked through the window. He didn't know yet, that much was certain, but John had made Molly cry, and that had put his back up.

The cab pulled away, and John was left alone. Rosie, amused in her playpen for the time being, John picked up his phone, swiping across the screen. Taking a deep breath, he opened the latest message.

 _Listen you slag, I don't care who you are, John and I will continue to see each other-_

He didn't read the rest. He tapped out a reply

 _Sorry. Can't do this anymore. I owe it to my wife, and myself._

With that, he deleted the number, and set his phone aside. He took a deep breath, feeling some relief. It was over.

Too little too late though.

He turned to look at the living room. Laundry baskets on the sofa, tea things on almost every surface. He and Mary hated clutter. They always took fifteen minutes every morning and afternoon to tidy up. There was no Mary to help tidy up. No smiling face to greet him in the morning. No sleepy-eyed kisses or shared showers to 'save time'. No more cheeky teasing or warm embraces. He looked back on the last three months and physically winced at the shame of his actions. He could not take them back. He wished he could. He sank onto the chair, covering his face in his hands. He'd have to live with this awful pain, and he thought that he deserved to. Shame isn't always present, it lingers just out of sight, out of the corner of your eye, behind a memory or a thought. This shame would burn in him, and John would suffer it. He had no one to blame but himself. His phone buzzed, and teary-eyed, he swiped the screen, sniffling. Surprised, it was from Sherlock. He blinked trying to clear his vision.

 _I hope that you burn. -SH_

The final nail in the proverbial coffin, John wept bitterly. If there were ways to make amends, he would. John would do anything to make things right.


	2. Forgiveness Can You Imagine

"You know Sherlock didn't kill her."

John, slouched in his chair, looked bleary-eyed up at Molly. He opened his mouth to speak, but had no words. He'd known that, of course he did. It was just so much easier to lay blame, when there was really no place to blame, when awful, unexpected things happened. There had to be someone to blame.

" _It's easier that way,"_ He could hear Mary say in his head. _"You've got to have someone to kick at. You're all kicking at each other, you ought to try listening."_

"I also know that Mary would probably punch you in the nose for you texting a strange woman," Molly went on.

John could see Mary laughing, nodding. _"I always knew I liked her,"_ her nose crinkled as she smiled, her blue eyes lighting up with amusement.

Again, John had no words. He blinked trying to clear his vision, but instead it only encouraged the tears that hung in his eyes to fall. He heard Molly move the footstool away from where he sat.

"I also know, that she'd have cleaned you up, and told you that she forgives you, because what you two had was too precious to throw away in a moment of weakness."

One is always painfully aware of the expression they're making when they're crying, it's such an unnatural expression, you can't help but realize how your face contorts as you sob uncontrollably. John was painfully aware that he was sobbing, and very much unable to stop. His lips were dry, and he felt them crack as his mouth pulled into a frown, and he uttered a keening wail, unable to stop the noise. Mary would have hated to see him like this. Once more, John could very well imagine Mary talking to him. They'd always known what the other was thinking, and now it seemed as if his conscience had taken on the form of Mary.

" _Listen to her, John. I'm not here anymore, so you've got to listen to her now, her and Sherlock. You need them just as much as they need you."_

Molly's arms went around him, tugging him forward and he doubled over, weeping on Molly's lap. "She would have forgiven you, John, that's who Mary was, she loved you so much, you know she did, and I know you loved her too. What you did was stupid, I think we all agree…but we can't change it. It is what it is, and now we're going to make the best of it. We won't talk anymore of mistakes or lost chances,"

 _Mary would have smiled then, gentle, warm, agreeing._

John, having calmed down somewhat, sat up, sniffling and wiping his nose.

"Sherlock is waiting to talk to you," Molly said at last. "Not to scold you, just…see how you are, he's worried about you."

"He seemed pretty upset when he texted me those weeks ago," John murmured.

"We _all_ were angry," Molly said. "But we aren't talking about then. Right now, he's concerned for you, concerned for his friend, and the father of his God-child."

John gave a short, nervous nod. "I've been a rubbish friend and an even worse father."

"That's why we're here," Molly answered gently. "Just give us a chance, forgiveness and trust, it goes both ways."

" _Oh Molly, you're a good soul,"_ Mary said in John's head. _"If she and Sherlock weren't already shacking up, I'd tell you to go for it John…after a proper mourning period of course."_

Realization dawned in his eyes, and he looked at Molly who was gathering up her things and taking down his coat. "You and Sherlock," he began. She turned, wondering. He stood, taking his coat from her, still looking at her with wonderment. He blinked, quickly sobering, but unable to stop the small smile that had formed.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he shook his head. "Just…congratulations."

Now it was her turn to smile. Heading for the door, John close behind, she glanced back at him, waiting as he locked the door behind them. "So you approve then?"

"I think I'm the last person you need to ask for approval, but if you're wondering," he shoved his hands in his pockets as they started walking. "Hell yes." She tried to stifle her giggle, and he reached for her, one hand cupping her cheek as he pressed his mouth to her other.

Together, they jumped into the waiting cab, and headed for Baker Street. There was still a lot to work through, John knew he still had to face Sherlock, but he knew this time he was ready to talk to him, he wanted to. He'd made a foolish mistake, and now he wanted to make amends. He didn't want to risk losing any more people he cared so deeply for.

" _It takes you a while to get there, John Watson, but you always come round,"_ Mary in his head smiled that beautiful, shining smile just for him. The road to recovery is never easy, in fact it's a long, difficult slog. John was grateful at least, that if he had to make a go of it, he was not alone.


End file.
